


Love Is A Ten Letter Word [Vol. 3]

by dreamofmetonight



Series: Love Is A Ten Letter Word [3]
Category: P!ATD - Fandom, Panic At The Disco, Panic! at the Disco, PatD
Genre: Amorephine, Angst, Blowjobs, Brendon Urie - Freeform, Car Sex, Clothes, Crying, Death, Don't Enter Unless You Have Tissues, Drugs, Dry Humping, Emo Elmo, Emotional, Eurie, Falling In Love, Gabe Saporta - Freeform, Gay, Guilt, Guyliner, Heartbreak, Jon Walker - Freeform, Las Vegas, Lots of Crying, Love, M/M, Music, P!ATD, Panic at the Disco - Freeform, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, Parties, Rape, Rosevest, Ryan Ross - Freeform, Spencer Smith - Freeform, Tissues will be needed, Unacceptance, Weed, William Beckett - Freeform, fashion - Freeform, handjobs, patd - Freeform, patrick stump - Freeform, pete wentz - Freeform, smoothie hut, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofmetonight/pseuds/dreamofmetonight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My name is Ryan Ross, I work at Smoothie Hut, and William Beckett is a dick</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amorephine

 

**Chapter 1: Amorephine**

* * *

                The first thing I feel is a hard slap to my face, instantly waking me up, and letting me get adjusted to my surroundings in an rude awakening.

                “Ryan fucking Ross, Jon goes and offs himself with Eurie, and then you decide it’s a good fucking idea to take Amorphine because you still can’t get over him,” screams Spencer? Amorphine? What? I widely scan the room, trying to figure out where I am while being on sensory overload. “You’re in the hospital, in case you haven’t noticed, asshole. Did you honestly expect that taking Amorphine wouldn’t end you up in the hospital? You’re fucking trash,” Spencer spits out in venom. I didn’t take Amorphine though, I haven’t taken anything since William gave me those pot brownies a few days ago.

                “What are you talking about Spencer,” I question him, finally able to get a word out, no matter how dry my mouth may be. I quickly look around the room, realizing that I’m in what looks like a hospital room, and connected to IVs.

                “You. Took. Amorphine. Large amounts of it, actually. Cops and hospital have never seen a case like you. So, tell me, how did it feel, being able to forget Jon,” he sneers, utter hate spilling out of his voice.

                “Spencer, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t taken Amorphine. The most I’ve taken was,” I pause to see if any nurses were walking by, “weed, and that was—what day it is,” I ask him suddenly. How long was I out? I must be in a nightmare.

                “You’ve been out for a week—took that long to flush the drugs out of your system. You had an extreme dosage,” a voice announces from the doorway, that I immediately recognize as Brendon’s solemn voice. “There were able to figure out that the drugs have been in your system for days,” he comments, and then starts walking towards me and Spencer. Brendon looks different, less—sex godlike?

                “Oh, so this is who you’ve been keeping shop with? Is he your new Jon? Did you use him to forget about Jon? Well, darlinggggg,” Spencer stretches out the g, “It’s not that easy. You can’t just take a drug, and forget about Jon Walker,” he pauses, and then looks down at the ground, “It’s not fair”

                “Spence, how about you wait outside and tell Pete that Ryan’s awake,” Brendon suggests, Spencer nods sadly, and walks out of the room, his head bowed.  

                “Brendon, what’s going on? I haven’t taken any drugs. Besides when William gave me those brownies,” I sit up in the hospital bed, utterly confused. What the hell is going on? Is this some kind of practical joke that William put on so that I would stop drinking? “Tell William to call off the joke and—“

                “It’s not a joke, Ry,” he sighs, and then reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together. But his hand feels different. Less like Brendon that I’ve known. “You were drugged the entire time that we’ve been together. William was drugging you with Amorphine. He had confessed the entire thing to me when you were brought in here a week ago”

                “No—no—no—no—no, I would know if drugs were in my system. I took Eurie, and it made me vomit—“ I stop dead in my tracks. I vomited when I was drinking with Brendon. I vomited because I was taking Eurie and drinking.

                “He’s been giving you the drug through food that he’s given you. The brownies that he gave you the first day we met were laced with it. The bacon he gave you, were laced too. But because he hasn’t gotten to you in enough time, the drug had worn off. That’s why you acted the way you did when I threw you into the pool. You,” he sighs, “weren’t in love with me during that time. The drug hadn’t kicked in yet. When you attacked me in the car we first met was an overdose of it. William hadn’t become ‘experienced’, he says in airquotes, “in the drug yet, so he wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t stop being interested. So he gave you double the dose. But, the drug hadn’t kicked in when you talked about Jon with me. You opened up to me. That means that you do actually like me,” he finishes, sounding hopeful, giving my hand a tight squeeze.

                There’s silence except for the beeping of machines keeping me alive, as I sit there not being able to comprehend everything that is going on. William drugged me? He couldn’t have, he wouldn’t have pushed me to move on when I wasn’t ready. He wouldn’t have done that, and knew that I could have gotten hurt, or could have died.

                “Listen, I know that you’re probably in shock right now, and that’s completely okay. William talked with the police, and because he gave them his dealer’s name, they’re willing to cut him a deal. He turned over all of his Amorephine—at least we don’t have to worry about the overdose factor now—and he’s only going to do a month in jail, because they only found Amorephine in his apartment when they got their warrant. I know this is really really fast—believe me, I know for sure—but there’s still a chance to save u—“

                “C-Can I just be alone for a little bit,” I squeak out, holding back tears by biting down on my lip.

                “Oh, of course! I just wanted to let you know that everything wil be ‘kay. And that the only reason why Spencer was so mean because he’s gotten no sleep, and because he still misses Jon and—“

                “Brendon, please,” I sigh tiredly.

                “Sure, sure, sorry—Um there’s water there on the tray for you if you’re thirsty—Dinner should be coming soon. You don’t have to eat anything of course. Me and William both know that you don’t like to ea—“

                “Just—Please”

                “Sorry, sorry, you know how I get, all rambling and everything. I’ll just be outside if you need me, and if you need a nurse, just press that little button that’s on your remote control, and they’ll be in a minute. So yeah, we’ll just be outside,” he lets out a breath, and then kisses my forehead, his kiss feeling completely different. I watch him go and that’s when I can finally let myself process everything.

                Did the Amorephine really cause me to like him? It couldn’t have. I was so sure about him and my feelings for him, but now everything is completely different? Why is it so different? Why is his hand, his appearance, and even his kiss different? He just looks… Ordinary now. He doesn’t look like the Brendon I’ve known. Is it really possible that Amorephine has caused all of this, and I was simply under the influence of a pill?

                I reach for the pink cup of water on the standard brown hospital tray, careful not to pull out my IV. I haven’t been in a hospital since Jon died… If Jon hadn’t gone and killed himself none of this would have happened. Me and him would be finishing up college right about now. We would be working at Smoothie Hut, and being with each other; happy. The exact opposite that I am right now.

                William is going to jail, because of me. All of this happened because of me. Jon killed himself because of me. Everything is happening because of me. I quickly wipe away a tear, and take a sip of the water and then place it back down on the tray. Why was I so stupid to think that everything was going to work out for me? And that I could actually be happy? I will never be happy.


	2. Posters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week has passed since I found out that I was drugged, and I’ve been out of the hospital since yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why not? Something to cheer you up and everything c:

 

**Chapter 2: Posters**

* * *

                 A week has passed since I found out that I was drugged, and I’ve been out of the hospital since yesterday. Brendon convinced me that I should move in with him since William hasn’t been released from jail yet, and he’s worried that I might do something to myself without William being there. Brendon’s not stupid, that’s for sure. While at hospital I had thought of multiple ways I could kill myself; wrapping my IV cord around my neck, smothering myself with my pillow, and pulling my IV out. Spencer would always come in at the right moment to stop me.

                Me and Spencer have grown close during my stay at the hospital. We mostly talked about Jon, and how much we missed him, and how we still can’t forget about him two years later. It was Spencer who I asked to pick my stuff up from my parents’ house. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to ask Brendon after everything that has gone on. And I couldn’t ask William.

                William hasn’t contacted us, sent letters, or even called, and I’m not sure if I want him to. I understand that he was trying to help, but there are other ways that don’t include jail time. I hear a light cough from behind me, and I turn around to find Brendon standing there awkwardly.

                “All of your stuff is moved into the room next to mine upstairs, so if you need anything I won’t be far away. I—My friend Audrey was able to fix your phone for you. He put all of your photos onto a flash drive for you so that they won’t get ruined,” he quietly says, with his eyes to the ground. This whole thing must have hit him hard too. The chestnut hair that I used to love looks like it hasn’t been washed in days; his eyes look bloodshot, and sunken in.

                “Thanks, Brendon, but you really didn’t have to do that,” I reply, looking down at my feet. This shouldn’t be as awkward as it is. When I had told him that I didn’t feel the same way I did a week ago, he looked completely crushed, but he understood, and if I was up to maybe we could start over. I still haven’t decided yet.

                “Its fine, Ryan. I promised you that I would try and fix it for you. I know how much Jon means to you,” he sighs, and then hands me my phone, and a flash drive, our hands touching, no longer feeling that spark, “I ordered some pizza for dinner if you want. You’re probably tired of hospital food by now,” his voice completely emotionless.

                “Listen, Brendon, I’m sor—“

                “No, its fine, Ryan. I completely understand that you don’t feel the same. It’s not your fault. And it’s not William’s fault either. It’s just,” he pauses, “the universe’s fault for having this happen”

                “If there was some way that I could go back and change everything—believe me I would—but I can’t, and it hurts. It hurts seeing you like this, not your normal ADD Brendon,” I look up at Brendon, and sigh.

                “It’s alright, Ryan, I just told you that. Maybe getting to know each other would be better in the long run. When you were on Amorephine we were too busy ripping each other’s clothes off to get know each other,” he looks up at me, and then cracks a smile.

                “Well, Amorephine also increases one’s sex drive, so I couldn’t really control that factor, but you could,” I smile, and then cross my arms.

                “Like I had said, Smoothie Boy, I have an incredible sex drive,” he replies, and then winks, “Pizza should be here soon. Your room is all made up if you want to take a nap, or if you want to rearrange anything,” Brendon bites his lip, looking like he might burst, “I couldn’t help but notice when we were in your bedroom last time, that you had a First Act guitar that looked like it had shredded to pieces, so I ran over to the local music shop—the owner Bob is very nice—and I had it tuned for you. If you don’t want me to I can—“ I interrupt him by strolling over to him, and give him a tight hug, feeling him instantly relax into the hug, his body and waist feeling so much different. Less muscular, but skinnier; like me.

                “Thanks, Bren,” I whisper softly, and then feel Brendon slide his head into the crook of my neck, as we stand there in the foyer, completely in peace, and warm. And happy? Am I happy? Do I actually like Brendon? It’s a question I asked myself every day at the hospital. Did the Amorephine cause all of this, or did it only heighten my feelings for him?

                “You should get changed, and get settled,” Brendon whispers into my shirt, “don’t want you to get pizza sauce on your Blink182 shirt, even though they suck,” he chuckles, shaking me as well. I pull away from the hug, immediately losing the heat.

                “I am so hurt,” I scoff, placing my left hand on my heart, “but, since someone can stand being in the room with someone as talented as Blink182, I shall get changed into something,” I wriggle my eyebrows, “appropriate”

                “You sound like you’re in a cheesy gay porno,” he folds his arms in front of his chest, “And I meant something you wouldn’t mind getting stains on”

                “Yes, I understand that, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” I saunter upstairs holding onto the banister, and walk by Brendon’s room, and then I walk into my room, and I’m instantly floored.

                Every inch of guest room’s walls are covered in bands that I listen to every day; from Blink182 to Green Day to New Found Glory, to even a few bands that I don’t want anyone to ever know that I listen to. How did he—William.

                Always fucking William. Even from behind bars he’s trying to look out for me. He’s like the gay dad that I never had. When he gets out, I’m going to have a night out with him, or a sleepover, because I know how much he loves those. And I’ll have to ask Brendon if he knows any guys who would actually treat Will with some respect. Even though I’ve heard that Gabe has visited William in prison, he still deserves better. He’s going to break his heart soon enough, and it’s going to tear him apart. I should probably call Will soon… And tell him that I forgive him. I didn’t get the chance to see him before he was carted off to jail.

                I let my eyes glide from the walls over to the queen sized bed, and I can’t help but sigh. Seems that Brendon is the type to go big or go home. It’s not so much of a surprise considering his hyperactive personality. Putting my room together was probably the only thing that kept him in one place for an hour or two. A yawn escapes from my mouth without warning, my eyes growing heavy. “No, can’t sleep, pizza’s going to be here soon. Brendon will kill me if I miss this,” I think out loud, “But I haven’t slept in a bed with actual bedsprings in a week” I let out another yawn and stretch my arms behind my back.

                “Ryan! Pizza’s here! Get your skinny Blink182 loving ass down here!” I hear Brendon yell from downstairs. I let out a large puff of air; I won’t get any sleep right now.


	3. Ryden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dude, you shouldn’t be drinking that, you’re already hyped up without it,” I grab the can from him and take a sip, ignoring the horrible taste, “You should try to come up with your couple name and then talk to me”  
> “Ryden,” Brendon replies immediately, and then steals the can back, “It’s as easy as that”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you'll like this chapter

 

**Chapter 3: Ryden**

* * *

                “I swear to Frerard, you must have the complete Disney collection in DVDs,” I comment, as I root through Brendon’s movie collection, looking for something to watch. I hear Brendon start to chuckle, and I turn around to face him, my hands on my hips, “What? You’re the one who has an obsession with Disney movies,” I pout.

                “Ryan, you just used a fucking ship name,” he replies, his voice dry, as he lounges on the loveseat, “That is so fangirl of you.”

                “You’ve seen my bedroom, Bren; I am a fangirl. I’m also really good at making up ship names,” I respond, and then continue to root through his movies.

                “If you’re so good at making up ship names you should make one up for Pete and Patrick” During my hospital stay Brendon had spent a lot of time with Pete and Patrick, and got to know them quite well. He was amazed by how in love they seemed; it just made me feel shittier.

                “Hmm..,” I pull out the case to Donnie Darko, and then tap my finger against it, “Peterick” I announce and then plop down next to him on the loveseat.

                “That is a shitty couple name. You need something that falls off the tongue. Look at Kim and Kayne—Kimeye—that’s a good couple name, not Peterick,” Brendon laments, and then takes a sip of his Red Bull.

                “Dude, you shouldn’t be drinking that, you’re already hyped up without it,” I grab the can from him and take a sip, ignoring the horrible taste, “You should try to come up with your couple name and then talk to me”

                “Ryden,” Brendon replies immediately, and then steals the can back, “It’s as easy as that”

                “Whose couple name is that,” I get up, and kneel down in front of the DVD player to put Donnie Darko on.

                “Are you really that daft, Smoothie Boy,” I hear Brendon take a sip from the can, and then swallow, “It’s our couple name; you start the couple name with Ry, and I take the rest with Den, pretty clever, eh?” I hear him smile, and I can’t help but frown. How long has he thinking up our couple name? A few seconds; minutes; hours; days? And should I care? I shouldn’t, right?

                “Yeah, pretty good. You should take up a couple naming business and charge celebrities money,” I fake a smile, and then open the DVD case, and pull the DVD out of the protective ring.

                “Wait, what are watching? It’s,” Brendon pauses, “8:30 and Spencer wanted to stop by tomorrow morning before his shift starts.”

                I let out a large groan, “I don’t want to wake up early, and its Donnie Darko,” I turn around on the hardwood floor, and face him, smiling, “Unless you want to go swimming?” I see his face light up, and nod vicariously.

                “I’ll be waiting for you in the pool,” he jumps from the loveseat, chugs the rest of the Red Bull, and then runs off to the pool room, almost slipping on the floor.

                “Good ole, Brendon,” I sigh softly, and push myself up from the ground, and then walk into the pool room, immediately seeing Brendon already floating in the pool.

                “Took you enough time, Lazy Ass,” Brendon comments lazily, when he hears me enter the room.

                “Sorry, sorry,” I put my hands up in defense, as I kick my shoes and socks off into a corner, and start to disrobe. “Me and swimming don’t really get along. My father thought it would be funny to throw me into our pool to teach me how to swim,” I pull my shirt over my head and throw it in the corner with my shoes, “Eventually after being thrown into the pool so many times, I taught myself to swim. I’m still not all that comfortable with water, though”

                “God damn, Ry, if I had known you back then I don’t know what I would have done to your father,” he hisses, as I undo my jeans and pull them down, stepping out of them, standing only in my boxers.

                “Well—um—you shouldn’t do that. You would be in jail, and I would have never met you,” I add softly, looking down at my toes, wrapping my long arms around my stomach.

                “Would that be such a bad thing,” he flops over from floating, and swims over to the edge of the pool, then looks up at me, smiling, hair slicked back from the water. “If you’re not comfortable coming in by yourself, I can help you in. I promise that I won’t toss you in”

                I shake my head, “I can do it myself, just,” I take a deep breathe in, not knowing why I wasn’t so afraid last time, “give me a second”

                Brendon sighs, “You can just put your feet in like last time; you don’t have to really swim. I had thought you had wanted to swim, that’s why I agreed. I didn’t mean to make you uncom—“

                “Brendon, you didn’t make me uncomfortable,” I sigh, and then sit down on the edge of the pool, and let my legs dangle in the water, “You’ve been entirely too nice to me—my room included—you’ve made me as comfortable as possible in this,” I bite my lip, “situation”

                “Honestly, its fine, Ryan,” he lifts himself up out of the pool, and sits next down to me, placing his wet hand on my knee, and I can’t help but shiver (from the cold water, right? Right??) , “William would want me to make sure that you wouldn’t do anything to yourself. He had said hello by the way, and that he was sorry for what he did,” he takes a deep breathe, and takes his hand off my knee, and laces his fingers into my hand, “He wants you to forgive him, Ryan. And it’s not my business at all—I’m not you and William—but I think that you should forgive him. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, he only wanted to make sure that you felt happy again. Of course it wasn’t the best way to try and achieve that, but he wanted to make sure that you felt happy in some way, even temporary. So, can you try and forgive William,” he asks me softly, and then stares into my eyes with those big brown gorgeous—his eyes aren’t gorgeous, they’re just eyes, right?

                And the hand that is currently connected to my hand is just a hand, and not the thing that’s making my heart race, and shivers down my spine. I’m only shivering because my legs are in the pool, and I don’t have enough fat on my body to keep me warm. Right? I’m not staring at Brendon’s plumb lips and thinking about how much I miss kissing them, and how stupid I was to think that it was just the Amorephine that was causing this.

                “Ryan are you—“

                “I think you should kiss me,” I blurt out, my heart beating out of my chest.

                “Wha—“ I don’t give him a chance to answer before my lips are pressed firmly against his in a manic and sloppy kiss. I let my eyes close, as I deepen the kiss, parting his lips with my oh so eager tongue, quickly dominating his tongue into submission. “Ry,” Brendon gasps out, his voice strangled. I mumble something that I hoped sounded like later, and then break off the kiss to give me a chance to breathe. I bite down hard on his tongue, just as he’s about to speak, resulting in a large porno like moan to escape from Brendon’s beautifully swollen mouth. In an attempt to get as many moans as I can get out of that beautiful mouth, I change tactics, and kiss down his wet neck, tasting the Brendon/chlorine mix.

                “I missed this,” I growl, and then bite down on his Adam’s apple, resulting in another loud moan to escape from Brendon’s mouth, as his body shakes.

                “Upstairs—Should—Go,” his voice coming out in short breathes.

                “There’s no one here,” I leave a trail of kisses down his jawline, “and there’s too many stairs to get upstairs,” another bite on his Adam’s apple, and another loud and earthshattering moan from Brendon. I stop my assault on his neck to detach our hands, and climb on top of his lap, hooking my legs around his waist to stop myself from falling.

                “Ryan, we’re going to fall in, we should—“ I quickly interrupt with a hard bite to his shoulder blade.

                “Just relax,” I coo into his ear, and then bite down on his lower earlobe, feeling his body shake beneath mine. I chuckle softly, when I see Brendon’s eyes watching me closely. “In case you’re wondering, the Amorephine didn’t do shit,” I smile up at him, and then I suddenly feel like I’m going backwards, with Brendon on top of me.

                What the—And that’s when I taste the pool water. Of course, Brendon was right; we fell into the water. We should have just went upstairs, but I was—still am—excited about that feeling still being there that that I just wanted it there. I swim up to the top, and I’m greeted by Brendon’s face.

                “I told you,” he grins from cheek to cheek, and then wraps his arms around my neck, almost drowning me in the process. I manage to kick at the water with my feet rapidly trying to keep me afloat.

                “I told you so in which way,” I raise my eyebrow at him, and then he furrows his eyebrow, “You know which way, Legs” I grin widely, and then see the light bulb go off in Brendon’s head.

                “What can I say? I’m a genius,” he replies with a shrug of his shoulders.

                “Oh shut up, Butters,” I joke, and then kiss him before he gets a chance to respond.

                Yeah, Amorephine ain’t got shit on us.


	4. Exercise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wake up that morning to the sound of Brendon’s steady breathing against my back, and I can’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading two chapters today!

 

**Chapter 4: Exercise**

* * *

           I wake up that morning to the sound of Brendon’s steady breathing against my back, and I can’t help but smile. After everything that happened at the pool we—Brendon—decided that we should sleep in the same bed. He had wanted to make sure that it wasn’t a fluke, and judging by how sore my neck and lips are, it wasn’t a fluke. We also decided last night that we wanted to take our second try a little slower; more kisses, less climax. It won’t be easy for Brendon, because of his quote ‘incredible sex drive’ unquote like he has liked to mention every time we have decided to make-out. I should feel like two high schoolers in love, and I do, but it’s a good feeling to actively express how we feel about each other.

           When Jon and I were together there was no expressing how we felt about each other. There was random gropings in the school bathrooms, or scooting off to the bathroom during lunch time and having a quick handjob in the bathroom stall. It was always rushed. Maybe that’s the reason why I want to take it slow with Brendon now.

           “Mmmm—morning, Ryan,” Brendon slurs, still waking up. I turn around in his arms to face him, even though I probably have morning breathe. It seems like things like this don’t matter to Brendon.

           “I always wonder how you’re able to wake up around the same time that I am,” I slur as well, my voice still half asleep.

           “Internal biological clock. I’m better in the mornings than during nighttime, remember”

           “I still don’t understand how you can be better in the mornings than nighttime. I hate the mornings. I would need to wake up early to walk to Smoothie Hut—“

           “You walk to Smoothie Hut instead of taking the bus?” Brendon asks, and then kisses my nose. I wrinkle my nose, and then stick my tongue out at him.

           I pull Brendon’s arms tighter around my waist, and kiss his nose back, causing him to wrinkle his own nose in an adorable way, “Yeah, I could use the exercise, and the bus isn’t exactly the cheapest; $5 per day for the bus, for a week is,” I pause to figure out the cost, I was never the greatest with math, “is $35 that I could spend on something else”

           “Ryan, the walk to Smoothie Hut from your house isn’t exactly the shortest route,” Brendon whispers, and then leaves a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I shrug my shoulders. It was just the way things have always been ever since the car had been taken away.

           “Can we not talk about work right now? I only have a few days off and I don’t want to be thinking about it when I have a gorgeous guy lying next to me in bed who is half naked,” I leave a trail of tightlipped kisses down Brendon’s neck.

           “Ry,” he giggles, “come on, Spencer is going to be here soon”

           “Spencer can wait, and so can breakfast,” I whisper into his skin, and then bite down on his Adam’s apple causing Brendon to let out a large sigh, as he tightens his arms around my waist.

           “We should get dressed and head downstairs, we’ll have plenty of time for this later,” he unwraps his arms from my waist, and then pushes himself up, resting his head now on the headboard.

           “But, Brenny,” I whine, “Can’t we just meet up with Spencer another day? It’s our first day being together without the use of drugs” I rest my head on his chest, and let my fingers ghost over his stomach, watching his hair stand on edge.

           Brendon sighs happily, “It would be highly rud—“

           The doorbell interrupts him, and I openly groan at my luck.

           “Can’t we just ignore it, and pretend that we’re not here,” I suggest, and then cast my eyes up to Brendon’s, smirking, “we could break that no sex promise that we made”

           “And I thought that I was the one who wanted sex all of the time,” Brendon chuckles, and then stretches, “I’ll get the door while you get dressed” I stick my tongue out at him.

           “You’re such a tease”

           “When I make a promise I keep it,” he leans down to kiss the top of my head. I roll my head off of his chest, and then cross my arms, pouting. “Oh come on, don’t be pouty”

           “I’m not pouting, I’m simply practicing my duck face—Go get the door for Spencer, the doorbell is giving me a headache” Brendon just needs to go, or I’m going to _explode_.

           “Duck faces are so two years ago,” I hear Brendon get up from the bed and put his feet on the ground, “And fine, fine, I’ll start on breakfast too. Maybe I’ll actually get your bacon right this time”

           “Stop talking and go answer the door before I jump your bones,” I grumble out, desperate to head into the shower and jerk off. Morningwoods always creep up on me in the worst way.

           “I’ll tell Spencer that you’re still sleeping,” Brendon walks around the bed, and then walks out of the bedroom, as I watch and hear every movement and footstep of his, pinpointing the exact moment when I could jump into the shower (jerking off in the bed would just be rude and gross.) Brendon’s footsteps on the stairs finally lets me know that it’s okay to head into the shower. Keeping this promise is not going to be easy at all.


	5. Fists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn’t long after I’ve finished in the shower, and walked into my room that the intoxicating perfume of breakfast flows through the house, my stomach responding with a large growl.

 

**Chapter 5: Fists**

* * *

                It isn’t long after I’ve finished in the shower, and walked into my room that the intoxicating perfume of breakfast flows through the house, my stomach responding with a large growl. Hospital breakfast doesn’t compare to real breakfast that you can make at home. It always lacks taste and probably leftovers from someone else’s food. And I’ve never been able to eat at hospitals. They have a distinct smell that always twists my stomach around. It’s probably because of my Dad and how often we had to visit hospitals.

                I slide on my jeans easily, no shimmying needed. I must have lost weight while in the hospital. Not eating will do that to you, even when you are getting fluids through an IV. It’s not any solid foods that really make you gain weight. If I have any money left this month after I pay for my cell phone bill, and my rent, then I’ll have to go out and buy some new clothes. Or gain some weight, which is most likely going to happen being at Brendon’s house. He always makes sure that I eat, even though it seems like he can’t cook at all. All of the food I have eaten here has been made by Keltie, packaged, or called in by a phone. To be honest, her food is a lot better than what we have ordered. Me and Brendon would be hopeless without her for the most part.

                If I didn’t know that Brendon was gay then I would think that him and Keltie would be together. She’s got the same hyperactive personality as him, is shorter than a little person, and has the perfect skinny body type. And she still seems to have perfect tits somehow. Spencer would probably drool; I’m still not sure if he’s straight, gay, or maybe both. We didn’t really talk about which gender he’s attracted to when I was in the hospital. My stomach growls again, warning me to get going again.

                “Stomach, just calm down,” I grumble to myself, grabbing a worn Green Day shirt out of the closet, and quickly throw it on, the shirt falling off me. Yep, I’m going to have to go shopping with some sort of money, somehow. Maybe I can convince Spencer to let me take some of his hours. Brendon can survive without me for a few hours or he can always stop by for his regular. I stuff my cell phone into the back pocket of my jeans, and walk over to the doorway, turning off the light on the way out.

                I walk down the stairs, my bare feet creaking on the wood, echoing in the surprisingly quiet house. I know that Brendon’s house is big, but it’s not soundproof, especially because of how loud he is. “Brendon?” I yell out, but there’s no response. I furrow my brows. Where the hell is he? I walk into the kitchen, and peek around the corner, and—William?

                “Hey, Ry,” he gives me a wry smile, his voice soft, “been a while” Before I know what I’m doing, I’m charging towards him, pulling him into a tight hug, finding myself sobbing into his shoulder. “Ryan… You’re kind of crushing me,” he whispers, and I quickly pull away.

                “Sorry; ‘ust missed you,” I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand, “what are you doing out of jail, anyways” William shrugs, and then faces the stove, flipping over the eggs in a pan with a spatula. “I don’t want to talk about what you did, I just want to know how you got out so early”

                “Sometimes not _all_ people like my personality, especially people in prison,” he replies, his voice barely audible over the eggs sizzling in the pan, “I was sleeping when my cell mate—a big bulking white guy—decided that he liked the way that I looked—“

                “You don’t have to tell me anymore,” I quickly interrupt him, still in shock.

                “No, Spencer and Brendon already know. You should know too,” he pauses, “he didn’t rape me, or rather, get the chance to. I woke up—just in time—and was able to push him away. It didn’t help though. He attacked me, and beat me until I was unconscious”

                “Is that why you’re out,” I ask him calmly, “because you weren’t safe there” William nods softly.

                “They also said that because of my good behavior—good behavior is bullshit there was overcrowding—that I should be released”

                “When did you get released?”

                “I got released today, they had an emergency meeting about it. I’m special according to them, because they don’t do this very often,” he says bitingly, “I tried to call you and Brendon but you didn’t answer, so I had to call Spencer”

                “Yeah...,” I rub the back of my head with my hand, feeling myself start to blush, “We—er—we slept together last night” William chuckles softly and then faces me, the bruises on his face suddenly showing up in the worst way.

                “I don’t think the Amorephine helped all that much,” he grins, and then winces, “do you know where Brendon keeps the ice?”

                “Probably in the freezer,” I look down at my toes, and look up at the ceiling, “where is Brendon anyways”

                “He’s in the pool. He can’t cook for shit, so I told him to run off before he burns the kitchen down,” William replies, and then opens up the freezer, getting an ice pack, “Spencer and Gabe are with him as well” I grit my teeth, and then look at William, my fists clenched.

                “He really doesn’t deserve you, William. After what he did in the cl—“

                “At least he called, and wrote to me, Ryan”

                “Don’t you dare play that card with me. Do you honestly realize that you could have killed me?! Or the fact that I could have been arrested? Or that when I was off the drugs I looked at Brendon completely different. There I was, lying in a hospital bed, feeling like shit because he kept looking at me like he was fucking in love with me, but there I was, not knowing who he really was! During that week I kept blaming myself for not being able to move on from Jon, and that I might lose Brendon because of what you did,” I scream at him, spit flying out of my mouth, “there were multiple times when I just wanted to end it all because I couldn’t stand the way that Brendon was looking at me!”

                “I did it for you, you asshole! You were so wrapped up in grief that you couldn’t realize that you did have friends, and that they are people who care about you! You needed a kick in the ass,” William barked.

                “That’s not your decision, William! It’s my decision! Mine!” I point forcibly at me, “When I want to move on!”

                “If you hadn’t been drugged you would have never moved on! You would have just woken up covered in puke and piss like you always do. You would have just made Brendon’s smoothie and he would have just strolled out of the store, you not even realizing what could have been. Jon has been dead for 2 years! You needed to get over it”

                I grit my teeth, “Just like you need to get over the fact that your father left and won’t be coming back,” I spit out with venom. William takes one step towards me.

                “Say one more word, Ross, and I will not hesitate to take you down. You’re probably used to it with your father, so it won’t take that much of a fight” I launch myself at him, knocking him onto the floor with a satisfying thud. I connect my left fist with his jaw, and then the right.

                “Fight you fucking bastard,” I scream into his face, and then hear a crunch, not even sure what just hap—“You broke my fuckin’ nose!” I roar, and then pinch the bridge of my nose.

                “What the hell is going on here,” I hear Brendon scream from the doorway. I flinch involuntary.

                “Me and Ryan just had a disagreement,” William responds slowly, and then clicks his jaw, “I think that he might need to go to the hospital to get his nose realigned”

                “What do you mean,” Brendon’s voice concerned, “Ryan, turn around right now” I grumble, and then get up from the ground, turning around to face Brendon. He gasps, and then runs over to me.

                “I’m fine, Brendon. I’ve gotten worse from my Dad in the past. William here just can’t hit well,” I joke, and then stick my tongue out at William.

                “Oh come on, Ross, I wasn’t ready,” William laughs, getting up from the floor.

                “Sure, Beckett,” I roll my eyes, blocking out the pain as much as I can, then look at Brendon, “It’s honestly fine, I can pop it back in”

                “No, I’m taking you to a hospital, and I’m taking William too,” Brendon says, grabbing a paper towel and pressing it up to my nose to catch the blood, “I’ll go get Gabe and Spencer. Ryan keep pressing down on your nose. And please don’t fight,” he quickly runs out of the kitchen.

                “Sorry about drugging you, and breaking your nose,” William adds. I turn towards him and then nod.

                “I understand what you were trying to do, but lying about isn’t the best thing to do, Will. I don’t know what it must have been like in jail—I can’t believe you went to jail to be honest—but I would have eventually got over Jon, with or without Amorephine. I’m completely clean of it, and I still like Brendon”

                “I’m glad that you and Brendon are happy. And you don’t need to worry about me and Gabe. You know that I’ll kick his ass if he does anyone like that again,” William chuckles softly, and I can’t help but follow suit, “So, to completely change the topic, your birthday is coming up soon. We should do something for it,” William wiggles his eyebrows, then groans.

                “I really hit you hard, didn’t I?”

                “Remind me to not run into you in a dark alley,” he pauses, and then speaks again, “we really should do something for your birthday. This time last year I was only a customer so I didn’t really get to celebrate your birthday. This year is going to be different though”

                “Will, I don’t want a big thing. I’m probably going to be working on my birthday. I need to start working soon, and taking some extra hours to pay for my bills. I was out of work for two weeks, so everything is starting to stack up. My cell phone bill, my rent, my internet, my cable bill. I’m going to have to hire a mover to take all of my stuff back to my apartment too,” I grit my teeth, my nose once again flaring up. I just need to pop this thing back in, and I’ve only got half an hour before it’ll be impossible to reset myself.

                “You could always just move in with Brendon,” William suggests with a shrug of his shoulders. I grab the ice pack that William was using, and another paper towel, then sit down on one of the wick chairs that is placed around the kitchen table. “You’re going to reset it right now, aren’t you?”

                “Help me, would ya,” I blow into the clean paper towel, the paper towel now soaked in blood, “If I pass out from pain, just catch me” I see William nod. He knows my avoidance to hospitals. I throw the paper towels into a nearby trashcan, and then press my fingertips on top of my nose, and press down. I grit my teeth, and clench my eyes. It’s been a while since I reset my nose.

                “Brendon is going to kill you,” I hear William state, and then fold his arms. I breathe in and then breathe out, and press my palms against the bottom of my nose, biting my tongue hard enough to draw blood. I swear as long as Blink182 is making music I will never get into another fight. “Better hurry up, I think I hear Brendon and the gang” I groan, and run my palms down my nose, quickly straightening it.

                “Willie!” a high pitched voice yells out, as I quickly finish aligning my nose, “I heard that you’ve been a bad boy! Does Gabey have to teach you a lesson?” I turn around to identify the voice, and I can’t help but smirk. He doesn’t fit William’s height requirement and has black curly hair. He’s at least 2 inches taller than William, and he’s got a slight Spanish accent.

                To be honest, I thought that William and Spencer would have gotten together the first time they met each other. Spencer fit every single requirement that he had. But I think that Spencer is straighter than straight, and William doesn’t really like a challenge. He likes everything to be easy for him. They’re different in every single way too.  

                “Gabe, not right now,” William flushes with a slight chuckle, “when we get home, yeah?”

                “Fine,” he pouts, and then realizing that I’m here begins talking to me, “Oh! You must be Ryan! You’re a lot more attractive in person,” he bats his eyelashes and quickly sprints over to me, suddenly kissing me excitedly and jamming his tongue down my throat, his hand threaded into my hair.

                “Gabriel Saporta, get off my boyfriend right now,” Brendon hisses, “as much as I _love_ getting my rocks off seeing two guys make-out, I would much rather it not be with my boyfriend” He used boyfriend. He used the boyfriend word. “William, control your boyfriend” Should I be enjoying this? Am I cheating when—Oh my god, whatever he just did with his tongue was amazing.

                “So—uh—yeah, Gabe, honey, why don’t you stop kissing Ryan,” William’s voice is barely audible. Is he—William doesn’t want it to stop? That pervert! Gabe quickly pulls away from me, leaving me gasping for breath.

                “So sorry, in my country, we kiss on the labios,” Gabe says, and then bows towards my direction.

                “You’re from Mexico, not fucking Italy,” Brendon growls.

                “Don’t be so uptight, amigo. If you’re feeling left out, you only have to ask,” he winks at Brendon.

                “Trust me, I’m not feeling left out,” Brendon glares, and then turns his attention to me, “we should get you to a hospital for your nose”

                “I reset it, I feel fine now,” I quickly get my breathing back to normal, and cross my legs, trying to hide the boner that has decided to pop up. Whenever a somewhat attractive guy decides to suddenly make-out with me, that’s going to happen. I’m not a whore—I promise.

                “I’m still taking you to the hospital,” he focuses those big brown eyes on me, staring into what seems like my soul, “We should leave now, Spencer needs to be dropped off at work”

                “Is he still in the pool,” I ask Brendon, completely tuning out Gabe and William. Brendon nods, and then crosses his arms. I turn around, and grab a few paper towels and stuff them up my nose to catch any more blood. “Let’s go get him,” I get up from the chair, and start walking towards the pool, ahead of Brendon. I’m starting to hate Gabe already. He can’t just do that to me. Or Brendon. I hear his footsteps behind me, and I go to turn around, when I’m suddenly pinned up against the wall.

                “Fuck me right now, Ryan Ross,” Brendon whispers, his voice smoky and dark. I get shivers down my spine, and I shudder.

                “We need to go get Spe—Oh fucking shit,” my voice spills out as Brendon blows hot air into my ear, “We’re right out in the open where William and Ga—Brendon,” I moan out when he moves his leg in between my legs, his upper thigh rubbing up against my already half hard cock.  

                “If we don’t right now then I might just hump a chair and explode,” he pleads, “please let me. We can go upstairs and I’ll let you do whatever you want. I just want to taste you,” his teeth graze my neck, and I can’t help but sigh.

                “We really need to take Spencer to—“

                “I’ll get Gabe to take him”

                “Didn’t you want me to go the hospital?”

                “I can make you feel better. I’ll be your nurse”

                I can’t help but smile sheepishly, “Only if you dress up in the costume” Brendon’s face lights up.

                “I can totally do that”

                “Me and Gabe making out totally turned you on, didn’t it?” I smirk, and watch his face.

                “No—I just want to make you mine right now,” I stare at him matter-off-factly, still pinned up against the wall, “No, I swear it didn’t”

                “So that’s why you’re practically tearing my clothes off, and the fact that you’re ready to explode, and you look like you’re taken a bottle full of Viagra?” Brendon gnaws at his lip, and that’s when I know that I’ve got him.

                “Look,” he whispers into my ear, “when any guy makes out with another guy, I go crazy. Unfortunately it had to be with fucking Gabriel Saporta. I saw the way you just enjoyed it, and ate it up. If it went on longer I was afraid that he was going to get on his knees and suck you off in front of me.”

                “Are you jealous, Nurse Urie,” I raise my eyebrows, and then smile, “the only guy who will be sucking my beautiful cock will be you”

                “Now you’re just playing with me”

                I smirk, “Nurse Urie, I’ll play with you for as long as you want”

                “You’re going to make me come just by talking to me”

                “Well then you’re going to love it when I play with you” Before I know it Brendon has slung me over his shoulder, and is walking up the stairs to his—our room, “I do not like being carried” He slaps me on the ass, and I squeal. Yeah, that sex promise did not last long at _all_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Gabe, don't you know not to mess with Brendon Urie. He'll get really jealous.


	6. Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “William was telling me that your birthday is coming up soon,” Brendon’s voice curious, “we should do something for your twenty third” I groan, and grab a pillow, and press my face into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading this early because I'm going to a concert Friday and won't be able to update the chapter. Enjoy this crushing chapter!

 

  **Chapter 6: Shoes**

* * *

                “William was telling me that your birthday is coming up soon,” Brendon’s voice curious, “we should do something for your twenty third” I groan, and grab a pillow, and press my face into it.

                “I don’t want to do anything,” I mumble into the pillow, “I don’t like celebrating my birthday” Birthdays were never a big thing for me ever since my Dad made sure that every clown in town was scared of him. Since then it was always just another day.

                “Too goddamn bad,” Brendon says sternly, “I’m going to throw you the birthday party that you deserve, Ryan” I let out another groan, and remove the pillow from my face, then look at Brendon. Him and his sexhair, and swollen lips could make me agree to anything.

                I let out a deep sigh, “I don’t want any house parties, or clowns. I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime” Brendon’s face lights up, and quickly smothers my face in kisses.

                “I promise you won’t regret this, Ry”

                I roll my eyes, and then push him away, giggling, “We’ve still got two weeks to go, Bren”

                “Two weeks isn’t a lot of time to plan a birthday party,” he shrugs, and then reaches for his phone on his bedside table, “I have to talk to Keltie and William and ask them for help with planning the party. We need to make up the guest list, figure out a meal plan—we might just get it catered, Keltie doesn’t like to make up a huge amount of food—we’ll have to get decorations and—“ I interrupt him with a forceful kiss, pushing him back onto the bed, breaking the kiss. His phone clatters to the ground, as I climb on top of him and straddle him.

                “You’re a party planner, aren’t you,” I smile down at him, and then lean down to leave light kisses down his chest.

                “If I say no will you continue kissing me,” Brendon breaths out with a smile.

                “Well, we should really eat something,” I run my tongue down his chest. Brendon’s hips jerk forward, and he lets out a large gasp.

                “What if the only thing I want to eat is you,” he blurts out, and then bites his lip. Fuck. He’s biting those swollen lips, and I can already feel myself starting to get half hard. But I am actually hungry. And William cooked. But Brendon looks so hot right now, and I’m horny. Food or sex? That’s the crisis that most guys my age face.

                “We could always,” I nod my head towards the door, “downstairs before we eat”

                “Downstairs?”

                “If we do it downstairs I’ll let you go big on my party,” I grin widely. I’m alright with sacrificing the party, as long as I get to eat and be with Brendon, “and we could,” I pause to consider my words, “actually go ‘downstairs’” We haven’t fucked in the conventional way yet. It’s been blowjobs, and handjobs and I haven’t done a lot of the heavy lifting. Brendon’s done everything and he just normally comes in the process.

                His body suddenly stiffens, and he quickly pushes me off of him, standing up.

                “Brendon, you could have just said yes; there’s no race,” I chuckle, and look up at him from the middle of the bed, as he puts on his Green Day shirt, and his too tight jeans, “we’re just going to take those off, unless that’s part of the fun” I smile at him, expecting a witty comeback, but there is none, just the silence of him putting on his shirt, and sliding on his sneakers. I don’t think that I did anything wrong? He could have just said no, right? “Come on, Bren. Don’t leave me hangin’ with blue balls”

                The only sound he makes is his footsteps across his carpeted floor out of his room, and down the stairs, slamming the front door shut. I-I did something wrong. I know I did. I shouldn’t have joked about being horny, or even ask him about having _real_ sex with me in the first place. Why would he went to have sex with me? I’m not attractive enough for someone like Brendon Boyd Urie. What with his perfect lips, and perfectly sculpted ass, and beautiful voice that I could never get tired of him.

                Me and Brendon haven’t talked about his past boyfriends before, but I’m sure that they’re fucking supermodels. At least they are compared to me. I have bony hips, bony knees; bony everything, my hair never seems to stay in one place unless a whole can and a half of hairspray has been sprayed, my eyes look like fucking kiwis, and I can never gain any kind of muscle. Of course he would run when I asked if I could put my cock in his ass. He doesn’t want something as disgusting as me inside of him. He probably doesn’t even want to be in the same house as me. I should just leave now. Pack up my stuff and leave.

                But getting everything out of my—Brendon’s guest room would require someone’s help. I can’t get William to help, because he’ll kill Brendon, and he’s probably with Gabe. Spencer is working right now. I could ask Pete, Patrick, Joe, or Andy, but they’re doing whatever the _fuck_ they do. They call it band practice (like a bunch of guys from Chicago could make it) but something else has got to be going on. Like who the fuck wears fedoras in 2013? The front door opening jolts me from my thoughts. I’ve got to leave, _right now_. Jump out a window; something. I can’t have him tell me to my face that he doesn’t want me anymore.

                I jump out of be—Brendon’s bed and quickly slide on my jeans, and my shirt. Fuck—fuck—fuck, nose do not decide to cripple me. Hopping around a room while trying to jam your sneaker on—because YOUR GOD DAMN FEET WILL NOT FIT—and having blood pour out of your nose is probably not a good look to have, but it’s probably a lot better than being caught by—

                “Ryan, we need to talk,” Oh fuck. I’m fucked. Fucked. Fucked. Fuckity, fuck, fucked. I didn’t want to be here when he told me. I would much rather it be on the phone where I can silence it, and pretend it never happened. Then I would simply get wasted later that night. And start my routine all over again.

                “I’m going, Brendon, I understand,” I croak out, and sit down on his bed to tie my shoelaces, “I’ll have someone pick up my stuff in a few days. When I get enough money to hire some movers. I’ll be out of your hair in just a few second—“

                “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to listen to me before you try and run off” I start tying my right shoe—the two shoelaces come together to make bunny ears—and then stand up, grabbing my cell phone from the nightstand. I look down at my cell phone to ignore Brendon’s gaze.

                “Okay, well, I don’t know if I can still live here—I’m paying rent for my apartment as well so I can’t afford rent here too—and just be friends with you. Some people might be able to but I can’t do th—“

                “Oh for fuck’s sake, Smoothie Boy! Because I froze up when you asked if we could fuck each other—there’s a very good reason on why I froze by the way—you think that I don’t want you in my—our house again? You are so stupid, I swear” I look up from the time on my phone—10am—and look at Brendon’s disheveled hair, and his red eyes—he’s either been getting high—highly doubt that he doesn’t smoke—or he’s been crying. What happened?

                “I thought that I did something wrong,” my voice barely audible above the hum of the AC in the window, “or that I wasn’t attractive enough to—ya know—have a piece of me in you” That sounded like it was ripped straight of a Lifetime movie. Brendon shakes his head with a wry smile on his face, his eyes transfixed to the ground.

                He smiles, and then looks up at me, “You are the most attractive man I ever seen in my life, and don’t you ever forget that, you stupid stupid boy”

                “You haven’t compared me to the Californian guys that you’ve seen, and all of the boyfriends you’ve had in your past. My hipbones are too bony, my hair never seems to stay put, my eyes look lik—“

                “I have a fat-ass, my lips are way too big, I wish that I could cut off all of my hair so that it wouldn’t look like a disaster, and my voice annoys the hell out of me. Everyone wants to change things about themselves, Ry,” he interrupts me, and then glides over to me, pulling me into a tight hug, “I love everything about you, from your amazing hipbones, your messy hair, to your milky white skin; I could never let you go. Even for a guy from California”

                “What about a supermodel”

                “Not even for a supermodel,” he kisses my cheek softly, “how about we go get some breakfast, and I can explain what happened with me storming out of here and everything” I nod softly, as Brendon rubs my back gently. “And we can get you an icepack for your nose” Shit. I forgot about my nose.

                “As long as I can eat, I’m completely fine,” I rest my head on Brendon’s head shoulder, and then sigh happily. I hate how I always go to worst case scenario in a few seconds.

                “And I made sure that William didn’t drug you, or I”

                “Oh don’t even joke about that!”

                “You love it though”

                I smile a big toothy grin, “Yeah, maybe I do”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's always a reason for everything....


	7. California

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I swallow my piece of bacon, “You should really try some of this. ‘S as bad as you may think it is” I put a piece of vegetarian bacon on Brendon’s plate, and then start on my ketchup smothered eggs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING! MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING!

 

** Chapter 7: California **

* * *

                I swallow my piece of bacon, “You should really try some of this. ‘S as bad as you may think it is” I put a piece of vegetarian bacon on Brendon’s plate, and then start on my ketchup smothered eggs.

                “I need to eat meat to keep my sex god like appearance,” he grins at me and then looks down at my plate, “would you like some eggs with your ketchup”

                I point my fork at his toast, “I don’t make fun that you put mustard on your toast”

                “At least I don’t smother my toast in it, like you do with your toast and ketchup” I shrug my shoulders, and move my eggs around on my plate.

                “Ketchup was the best way to mute the taste of my Mom’s food,” I stab at a piece of egg with my fork, and then quickly swallow it, “I’ve never really liked food—that is—until I met you” I look down at my plate, and then back up at Brendon, giving him a wry smile, “I feel like you’ve done a lot for me, and I haven’t done anything for you” Brendon sighs, and then gnaws at his bottom lip, casting his eyes down to his plate.

                “I told my parents that I wanted to move to Las Vegas to pursue my music career,” his fork squeaks against the white china, “and that is true, but it’s only a half truth”

                “Is this the reason why you stormed out upstairs?” Brendon nods softly, and then looks up at me, his eyes drawn.

                “I have been with guys before—a lot—after I came out of the closet. It was my way of rebelling against my parents. When I first told them they ignored it, and didn’t really acknowledge it,” he pauses, “I wasn’t kicked out—per-say—but I was encouraged to leave the house. It wasn’t until they started forcing me to take Eurie and Amorephine that I left. As long as I’m in their house, they don’t approve of it. Out of sight out of mind,” He shrugs softly, and drops his fork on his half empty plate with a clatter. He looks so sad, and less like the hyperactive Brendon that I’ve come to know.

                “Brendon,” I drop my fork on my plate, and reach out for his hand, lacing our fingers together, “I don’t understand how parents—or anyone really—could be against love and happiness for everyone. No matter who you love, you should be with that person no matter what” I squeeze his hand, “your parents will come around when they see how happy you are now”

                “Your parents will too, Ry” I shake my head sadly, a sad smile emerging on my face.

                “At this point, I have no parents, Brendon. When you found me on the floor in my kitchen, my Mom called me—after a year of not talking to me—and told me that they were moving, and that I would need to pick up the rest of my stuff. My Mom was always my protector with my Dad. She took the punches, and the hits for me. When they kicked me out, my mother would still talk to me sometimes. She didn’t talk to me on my 21st birthday,” I shouldn’t be talking about myself when Brendon was trying to tell me about himself, but it’s falling out of my mouth, “So, she called me to let me know that I would need to pick up my stuff. I had Spencer go and get it for me, and drop it off at my apartment for you to pick up later. She told me that I could come back as long as I choose to live my life in the way that God intended it. And that I chose to leave as soon as I chose to be g—“

                “Before I left California my ex-boyfriend raped me and that’s why I froze,” Brendon blurts out, and then bursts into sobs, his head falling into my chest, as his body shakes. No—no—I didn’t hear him right. He—He couldn’t have been raped. No, not my Brendon. That’s not possible. How could anyone hurt him? I couldn’t imagine that. He’s just so _Brendon_ who could hurt him and find pleasure in it? And it only happened a few weeks ago. He couldn’t have possibly moved on so fast and—fuck. I might have pressured him into jerking me off or giving me a blowjob. I’m such an asshole. I’m an asshole for thinking about what _I_ might have done and instead not thinking about him. God—what the fuck do I say? I don’t want him to think that I’m only thinking about myself but how I do approach the subject? I—I’ll talk about if I pressured him into anything. That’s a good start. Make sure he’s okay with us.

                “Shit—Bren—I’m sorry if I pressured you into anything,” I pull him onto my lap, and wrap his legs around my waist, “Just—Sorry—Didn’t mean to make it about me”

                What do I even say? Do I ask what happened, or have him tell me and wait? Should I just sit here, holding him and rubbing his back? What do I do? This shouldn’t have happened to the Brendon that I’m holding in my arms. The Brendon whose face lights up when he gets something, and can never sit still, and can never get out of the water. No one should have hurt him, emotionally or physically. This isn’t possible. Who could hurt him? Why would they? I continue rubbing his back in small gentle circles, hoping to calm him down.

                “Bren—it’s alright—he’s not here. You’re safe. I’m here, and I won’t _ever_ hurt you. You can tell me what happened, or you don’t ever have to tell me, or you can tell me next week—whenever. We can go as slow as _you_ want,” I sigh, “I’m horrible with things like this—speaking in general—but you should know that from William, to Spencer, and,” I bite my lip, “me all love you” Brendon sniffles, and then picks up his head, his eyes look red and bloodshot; snot running down his chin.

                “I haven’t told a-anyone,” he hiccups, his voice raspy from crying, “he s-said that no one would believe me, and that I had w-wanted it”

                “Hey, I believe you, and you did not want it. No matter what he told you”

                “My parents don’t even k-know what happened,” his eyes once again cast downwards staring at the happy little palm trees on the chair. Quite a contrast to how we’re feeling now.

                “Do you think you’re going to tell them,” I continue rubbing his back, hoping to make him feel safe. I want him to make sure he feels safe with me, and that I won’t hurt him. I could never do that. I was more worried about if he was going to hurt me. Seeing him hurt would crush me.

                “You don’t even know the full story, Ry. You would hate me if you knew the full story”

                “Brendon, you silly boy, I could never hate you. I don’t care if you murdered Gabe—you might actually do that soon—or if you hate Blink182 and their amazingness,” Brendon chuckles, “if you never want to tell me everything that happened, I’m fine with it. I want you to feel safe with me” I press my lips to his sweaty forehead, and then kiss his nose. “I won’t hurt you”

                “I already feel safe with you. I wouldn’t have blown you, or jerked you off if I didn’t feel safe with you. Being in your arms—like this—is the only time I feel safe,” he kisses my nose, and sniffles, “When we were together, I was safe. I knew, just by looking at your mute self—“

                “I was not mute! I was merely awed by your attractiveness,” I quickly interrupt him, and then pout.

                “You were mute when we met. I knew the moment when the blender came on you—my smoothie was white after-all—that you couldn’t hurt a fly”

                “I might not be able to kill a fly but you probably can’t kill a spider. You would just scream for me to come and kill it for you,” I stick my tongue out at him.

                “No, that would be William”

                I chuckle and nod, “Yeah, you’re right. He once called me—before we started hanging out—and told me to come to his apartment and kill a huge spider for him. So, I got there, and it was a thousand legger. He does not know his bugs at all”

                “What’s a thousand legger? Californians and Las Vegasers have different languages”

                “Did you just call me a Las Vegaser?” I raise my eyebrow at him.

                “What do you prefer to be called?”

                “Anything but Las Vegaser. But a thousand legger means a daddy long legger”

                “Wait, do you mean the bug that has a million legs?” he asks, and then kisses me softly, but pulls away just as quickly. Such a tease he is but I can’t complain after what he just told me. I would be completely okay with not having sex for years if he doesn’t feel ready yet. I quickly nod, and then stretch out my legs on the other chair.

                “Hope you know that you’re breaking my legs,” I comment. I would much rather be upstairs or on the couch together and talk there. But I'm okay with sitting here as long as Brendon is here with me and he feels okay. 

                “There’s always the couch or upstairs,” he yawns, “didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, sorry”

                “Nightmares?” He nods sadly. “Do you want me to sleep next to you?” His face lights up like a light bulb and I can’t help but laugh. “You are so easy to please, I swear”

                “You are too, Mr. Let’s Dress Up Brendon In A Nurse Outfit Because I Have A Kink For It”

                I shrug my shoulders, “I have a lot of kinks” Should I be talking about sex with him after what just happened? Or talk about it like normal and nothing happened?

                “Do you want to have sex with me, Ryan?” Brendon suddenly asks cooly. I nearly choke on my spit. Didn’t he just want to take a nap? What the hell? How did he suddenly go back to sex?

                “Well yes—but—I’m going to wait for when you’re ready. I don’t want to push you,” I manage to choke out. He’s going to kill me, I swear.

                “I’m ready Ry—“

                “I will love you whether or not we ever have sex,” I blurt out, and then instantly regret it. Did I just say that I love him? We haven’t even known each other for a full month. We haven’t even been on a real date and I’ve told him that I love him. I mean, I _do_ love him. But that’s beyond the point.

                “I want to make sure that you feel good, Ry,” his hands drift down to my stomach, and I slap his hands away.

                “Just being with you—right now—in this moment makes me happy. I don’t need sex to make me happy, Brendon. As long as I have you, I’m happy” It’s obvious that he doesn’t really want this.

                “I—I thought that you wouldn’t like me if we didn’t fool around,” his voice barely audible, “it’s why I’ve always attacked you. I don’t really have an incredible sex drive. He always wanted to have sex all of the time. I thought that I was supposed to make him happy by having sex with him” Is he going to tell me what happened? Should I push him for it? Should I even say anything? Should I worry about the fact that my legs feel like they’re going to fall off right now?

                “I’m not him, Bren”

                “I was drunk, he took me to a bar—I’m a lightweight—and he had to carry me back to our car because I couldn’t stand up straight,” Brendon clenches his eyes tight, and I quickly start to rub his back softly. He’s going to tell me what happened. I can feel it in his tensed body. “We went back to his place—he didn’t like my apartment; called it too bright—and he threw me on his bed. Me and him had been in a relationship for a few years—our 3rd year anniversary was coming up soon; I left California on it” Their 3rd year anniversary was on the day of Jon’s 2nd anniversary. They were together for a year when he died. I don’t even know what to say/think about that.

                “I was really wasted, but I remember everything. I remember when he turned me over, and pressed my face into the pillows, and I protested, and tried to get away from him but I couldn’t he told me that I should make him happy by just giving in I gave in because I wanted to make him happy,” he says it all in one sentence, visibly in pain, “He didn’t even use a condom, or lube or anything he wanted to hurt me as much as possible I thought that he hated me he tore my pants off and ripped my boxers off I remember not doing there I just lay there motionless and not making any sound I just wanted it to be over he eventually finished and he told me that he loved me and then went to sleep I didn’t sleep that night and I left early in the morning,” he gasps to take a breath, once again talking as fast as possible, not taking any pauses, “He told me that no one would believe me and how could I even remember what happened I was drunk and wasted and that I had wanted it and I had wanted to make him happy I only had a few friends back in California so it didn’t take my parents much convincing to move to Las Vegas I left a few days later and I didn’t talk to him again after that,” he finishes with another body shaking sob, as his head falls onto my shoulder, once again becoming completely defeated.

                I once again don’t know how to handle this. And I feel bad for thinking about how I should act/think right now. I should be comforting Brendon—saying something—but I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to spook him, or make him uncomfortable or offended. I most certainly don’t want to tell him that my legs are falling asleep, and that my cell phone is vibrating my butt. The only thing I can do is sit there and hold the boy who is just as fragile and broken as I am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to break your heart


	8. Sarah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We sit there in those chairs, conjoined, until the sun goes down, and Brendon falls asleep from pure exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having some difficulty writing since my concert happened.  
> William ended up not being able to make it due to his flight being delayed because of the weather  
> So have another chapter so I think that I'm making some progress.

 

**Chapter 8: Sarah**

* * *

                We sit there in those chairs, conjoined, until the sun goes down, and Brendon falls asleep from pure exhaustion. My legs and ass have fallen asleep in the process. My long spindly legs, and my invisible ass is gone; poof, gone. I can’t wake him up though. It would be cruel. I focus on his steady breathing, trying to sync up my breathing with his. My stomach seems to disagree as it growls. I should eat and stretch my legs. I don’t want to wake up Brendon but I’m going to have.

                “Brendon,” I utter into his ear, hoping for some sort of reaction. I hate that I have to wake him up from his peaceful dreams, but he should probably eat too, “it’s time to wake up, you should eat, Muscles” I kiss the top of his head. We’ll probably order out. Thankfully Las Vegas has many different places to eat from. It would be nice to go out—and have our first date—but I don’t think that Brendon would be up to it. To be honest, I might not even be up to it. I still haven’t iced my nose. After he told me what happened back in California, every problem of mine just disappeared.

                “Brendon’s not here call back after the beep,” he mumbles into my shoulder, “beeeeeeeep.” I can’t help but smile whenever I hear his voice. It doesn’t help that he sounds even more adorable after he wakes up.

                “I guess I’ll have to pick something to eat without him. And I’ll just let go of this bo—“

                “Brendon is here, and he is ready to talk,” his head suddenly jerks up, his hair sticking up everywhere, “can we get Taco Bell? I could really go for tacos” I chuckle as I take in his perfectly imperfect appearance, and how excited he got. How someone could hurt him I could never understand. He’s like a twenty four year old puppy.

                “Won’t we have to go out to get Taco Bell? I don’t really want to leave your house”

                “I can get Zack to pick us up something. I think he’s still outside”

                I furrow my brows, “Isn’t Zack your landlord?”

                “Well…” he pauses, “because of the business that my parents are in, they were afraid that someone might find out who they are, and come after me; they hired me a bodyguard” I nearly choke on my spit. He has a fucking _bodyguard_!? I think I just shit my pants.

                “So, you have your own personal slave?”

                “Are you referring to yourself,” Brendon arches his eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips.

                “You can’t make me do any—Stop that,” my voice squeaking, as Brendon nibbles on my neck, “We need food, and I need to ice my nose” Brendon stops biting, and then pouts.

                “Fine,” he unwraps himself from me, and shakily stands on the ground, teetering slightly as he steadies himself against the counter, “I’m going to go call Zack, because you don’t eat meat I’ll have him—“

                “I wouldn’t be against eating some meat. I originally stopped eating meat back when Jon died. It was easier to afford. And after my parents kicked me out, I didn’t have much money. So going vegetation was a ‘cost-effective’ option. Most of their beef and chicken probably isn’t even chicken anyways,” I say with a shrug, and shake my legs out, finally getting feeling back in them as I let them dangle from my own chair, “there would be days when I wouldn’t really eat anything partly because I didn’t like food, and also because I couldn’t afford it. My Mom had said that she was going to help but there’s only so much you can do when you have my Dad as a husband. When I told my parents about me and Jon they completely disowned me. They threw me out—I was living there because it was summer—and stopped paying for my college tuition so I had to drop out before my semester started. I met Pete soon after—Jon and I had always dreamed about working at Smoothie Hut—and I started working for him. Found my apartment—I have to go back to work soon to pay for my rent and my phone bill—lost my car—I can actually drive by the way—and that’s how I’m here” I once again had word vomit, and made everything about myself. I shouldn’t keep doing that, especially after everything that happened with Brendon. It should be all about _him_. Brendon sits down on the chair next to mine, and grabs my hand.

                “I think it’s about time you learn about Sarah,” he sighs softly.

                “Don’t you want to eat or,” I look at his disheveled appearance and just know that it’s time to learn about his Jon. “I can wait for food”

                Brendon pulls out his iPhone out of his pocket, “I’ll just tell Zack to get a twelve pack of tacos. Are you okay with only beef and cheese—if I asked for a taco I don’t want a salad in it—so yeah, are you?” he looks up at me, his red iPhone in hand.

                “I have only been eating salads for the past 2 years—yes,” I grin widely. Eating out—not a sexual innuendo—had always been way too expensive for me, so being able to order food from Taco Bell, and Golden Key, and Pizza Hut was a treat. Brendon’s long fingers fly on the keys of his phone, as he texts his order to Zack. I should offer to split the order—it would be like a boyfriend to do that but my bank account is emptier than empty. I think I’m in the negative. All of the money I had in there was spent to pay for my hospital visit. Pete doesn’t give us health insurance, so I was insured. Brendon had offered to pay for everything, but I had declined. I don’t want him to view me as a freeloader especially after the news came out about the Amorephine.

                “Zack bitched me out, but I convinced him to pick up our food,” Brendon’s voice snaps me out of my own pity party, “he said that he was ‘busy’ which means that he was busy with his wife. They’ve been trying to have a child for a while”

                “Did he come with you from California?”

                “Yeah, when I was in college he was my bodyguard, but he normally just stayed in my dorm room. My parents—cared about me only when I wasn’t filling their home with sin—paid for a single room. Everyone thought I was royalty or something,” he chuckles, and then taps his foot with mine.

                “I could totally see you as being royalty. All hail Brendon Urie, King of California!” Brendon chuckles, and shakes his head.

                “I ended up graduating with a major in Music, and a minor in English at UCLA. It was such a party school. My parents had hired someone to home school me, because they were once again scared to death that someone was going to hurt me. When I entered college it was a totally new experience. I didn’t know how to talk to people—what did they talk about—so I mostly stayed to myself. But, eventually I ventured out and went to some parties. They were using drugs that my parents had made. I was terrified. I met _him_ during my freshmen year. We were friends, and didn’t become more than friends until I got drunk on my twenty first birthday, and drunk dialed him, and told him how much I loved him. We got together soon after that,” he lets out a deep breathe, “Zack didn’t like him. Guess he was right”

                “What do you think the message behind Romeo and Juliet was,” I quickly direct him onto another subject. Distracting him from what happened might be a good thing right now.

                “You can’t fall in love with someone you just met”

                “Are we a modern day Romeo and Juliet then?”

                “Let’s hope that we don’t end up dying in the end. I think we’ve both had enough death to last us both a lifetime,” Brendon cracks a smile, “So yeah, Sarah” His body slumps down into the chair, the smile now gone. “Me and Sarah met a lot like you and Jon did, but completely different. Her parents were in the same business as my parents were—poor girl—they put—um—we put into a daycare of sorts. We met when we were 10—um—sorry having trouble remembering. Probably lack of food”

                “We can always finish this later, if you want. I still need to ice my nose”

                “Shit, I’m sorry. I fell asleep on you, didn’t I,” he quickly gets up from the chair, and jogs over to the freezer, and opens it, “Right, so, Sarah had this really long black hair and I had gotten gum stuck in it. She completely flipped out on me, and that’s how we became friends. We didn’t really have this whole big romance like you and Jon did. But she was like my best friend,” he closes the freezer, and walks over to me, carrying a blue ice pack, “When I was 13—we were still as close as we could be—and she was 15 she had asked me if I wanted to go to a movie with her,” he hands me the ice pack, and then sits in his chair, “my parents had made this big deal about it. They called it my first ‘date’. I had no idea what they had meant. I was 13, and wasn’t interested in any dates or having relationships. We went to the movie—I think it might have been Shrek, might be getting my years mixed up—and she kissed me. It was one of those awkward kisses, and we bumped noses—it just didn’t work out”

                “We were just friends from then on. But after that kiss, I began to question myself. My parents asked me how it went, and that I’ll have girls lining up for me soon enough. I didn’t want that though. Long story short, she was my first kiss, and who made me question myself. A year later, I told her how I felt. She completely accepted me,” he chuckles, “she accepted me so much that she started quizzing me on which celebrity I thought attractive, and who I would kiss,” he sighs, and grabs my hand, squeezing it, “she died when she was 17. “I came out when I was 15—parents gave me the pills until I could leave for college. She got a hold of some Eurie—and she well—her and Jon have a lot of things in common. How they died was one of them. I never found out the full story on why she did it,” he breathes out, his stomach growling.

                “Jon and Sarah were completely different people, Bren, and they served completely different purposes in our lives. Sarah helped you discover yourself; Jon helped me deal with my father, and my family. She was your Sarah, not your Jon. They may have had their deaths in common, and they both died when we needed them the most, but that is all they were. They have nothing else in common, and they both loved us dearly. And they will continue to love us from wherever they fuck they are—the ground heaven whatever what you believe in--just sometimes people can’t handle the world they were born into, and they numb that with drugs, or drinking. Sarah and Jon couldn’t handle it, but they’re still here, in their own separate ways,” I put the ice pack down on the table, and stand up, quickly grabbing Brendon into a tight hug. He wraps his strong arms around my back, and hugs back just as tight.

                “They are probably laughing at us right,” Brendon laughed, “and how we still can’t forget them”

                “Sarah would probably throw gum at you”

                “She would like you”

                “Jon would probably pat me on the back for scoring someone like you,” I chuckle, and then pull back from the hug to stare at Brendon, “you really are amazing, Brendon. I don’t know how I managed to get such an amazing man”

                “It was your act in Smoothie Hut”

                “It was not an act! I was speechless. Have you never been speechless in your whole life,” I pout, and cross my arms.

                “You may have not known this,” he snakes his arms around my waist, and pulls me closer to him, “but when I saw you I was completely speechless”

                I blush, “I thought that you wanted to have sex with me the first time you saw me”

                “It seems that I might use sex as a way to guarantee that I make someone happy. Whenever someone is upset, or crying, I end up jerking them off or blowing them. You seemed unhappy when you told me about Jon, so I wanted to make you happy. I came onto you”

                I scoff, “So, you lied about what you first thought about me”

                “I just didn’t mention it”

                “Tell me what you thought about me”

                “I thought you looked adorable with your smoothie flaked hectic hair, and your too big hands that didn’t fit your body at all. I just wanted to kiss your perfectly chapped lips, and never stop. Everything was so imperfect that it was perfect—you are and were _perfect_ ”

                “You are as corny as the Disney movies that you love so much,” I crack a smile.

                “Disney movies didn’t include two gay men”

                “I don’t know, Gum, I think you might of missed Frozen” I haven’t either. I can’t afford movies, especially ones that you need a special invite to see. The movie is supposed to be coming out around Christmas time—oh god Christmas, I hate Christmas—but they’ve been handing special preview passes to people. And I’ve heard spoilers that a gay couple has been referenced in the movie. I’ll have to see if I can afford a way to get us to see it, especially now that Brendon’s face is lighting up right now.             

                “I haven’t seen the movie yet. Would you want to go with me,” he blurts out. Yeah, I’ll have to get a preview pass for him. I need to do something nice for him.

                “Are we finally getting a chance to go on our first date?”

                “That is if you want to go on a date with me,” Brendon trails off.

                “You’re stupid--of course I would”

                “I feel like I should kiss you or something”

                I roll my eyes, “I’m not a Disney princess who you need to ask to ki—“ He doesn’t wait a second before he’s kissing me, trying to avoid my nose as much as possible. At this point, I think that my nose won’t matter. And I’m pretty sure that it might never be straight again, but I’m not straight, so who the hell cares. I’m kissing Brendon Boyd Urie and nothing else matters.


	9. Guns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A loud knock on Brendon’s door quickly interrupts our kiss.

 

**Chapter 9: Guns**

* * *

                A loud knock on Brendon’s door quickly interrupts our kiss.

                “It’s probably Zack with our food,” Brendon whispers into my ear, shivers rumbling down my body, “he’s a tad scary but he’s a giant sweetheart when you get to him”

                “Does this mean that I’m meeting part of your family?” I bite at my lip, and then Brendon pulls me towards the front door by my hand. He stops short of the door, his eyes casting to the ground, his beautiful teeth biting at his bottom lip.

                “Yeah—I guess that you are. Zack is like my big brother,” he shrugs, and then opens the door, a tall and bulky shadow filling up Brendon’s doorway.

                “I’m not your lackey or butler, Urie,” a gruff voice announces, “your parents hired me to protect you—who is this?” Oh shit. Is he going talking about me—well he has to be. I’m the only person in the house besides Brendon. There’s the maids who are only here it seems like when we’re sleeping. We normally wake up and new towels are laid out and so are new bed sheets.

                “This is George Ryan Ross—call him Ryan, he doesn’t seem to like to use George as his name,” Brendon blurts out and then grabs my hand, quickly squeezing it. Zack raises his eyebrows, and then nods, as if he’s understanding what’s going on. I hope so. I don’t need him to beat me up. He looks like he could take Godzilla, and if I had met him in a dark alley I would piss my pants.

                “Why do you not like George? Have you been convicted of any crimes using that name?”

                “Zack don’t scare the poor guy. He just got here”

                “I’m your bodyguard—even though you like to get rid of me a lot—I’m supposed to protect you. Parents’ wishes and all,” Zack pushes his way past me and Brendon, almost knocking me over in the process, “you owe me $30 for everything”

                “What the hell did you buy Zack? An actual cow to make the meat?” Brendon closes the screen door behind Zack, and crosses his arms. They might not look like each other, and Brendon might not be shorter but I can totally see how they’re brothers.

                “Totally Brendon. The cow is strapped to my roof right now. Ashley’s going to _love_ it,” Zack grumbles, and then starts to walk out into the kitchen, with Brendon not far behind, dragging me along with him, “She hates you by the way—has to take another shot now when I get home”

                “Ryan didn’t want go out and get tacos,” Brendon shrugs and then smirks at me. No, I was completely okay with going out. You didn’t want to go out. Don’t put the blame on me. I do not want to make Zack mad. I would like my legs, and arms intact please.

                “Your parents called me earlier. They told me that you haven’t spoken to them in a while. You should talk to them,” he digs into the bag of tacos, and pulls out a twelve pack of tacos, “they want to know how the music is going and if you’ve booked any shows yet”

                Brendon shrugs, and opens the box of tacos, the wonderful smell filling the room, “Haven’t really had the time to look into booking shows—I need a full band to perform with me—my new friends have been taking up a lot of my time”

                I quickly find my voice, squeaking as I go, “I can help him if he needs help—I haven’t heard him sing yet—but I can try and find some open mics. Las Vegas is a totally different music scene. We’re more into the cabaret type of singing—you need to wow us—theatrics—fire—we live in the most amazing city in the US—besides New York at least I’ve heard never been there—so we get a lot of singers. You need to wow us,” I ramble on.

                “You. Want. Me. To. Bring. Fire,” Zack states in mild shock, “Do you want me to bring lions too?” I shake my head rapidly.

                “Lions aren’t attractive to females—Brendon has that boyish charm that could attract females—get a group of guys together, and you’ve got your target market already nailed down,” I blurt out, wondering where the hell this is coming from. Maybe I’m trying to impress Zack? I’ve always wanted to break into the music business, but with money being as tight as it’s been its not possible. To record an EP/Demos it costs at least a grand or two, and I don’t have that kind of money. I glance over at Brendon who is biting into a taco, watching me and Zack talk with mild interest.

                “Brendon’s gay though,” Zack deadpans, “girls wouldn’t be interested in him if they knew he was gay. Look at George Michael—girls dropped him faster than a bloody tampon when he turned out to be gay—or Adam Lambert; being gay doesn’t sell”

                I shake my head, smiling, as I grab a taco from the box, “Welcome to the 21st century; two guys kissing—or even rubbing up each other—will get girls attention and get their estrogen up” I bite into the taco’s soft shell nearly burning my tongue on the scalding hot meat, “Hot—hot,” I run over to the sink, turn it on, and then put my mouth under it to chill the burn.

                “You do know that we live in 2013 and have filtered water right, Ryan? You don’t need to drink from the sink like a dog,” I hear Brendon talk around a taco. I turn the faucet off with a squeak, and then walk over to Brendon, sticking my tongue out at him.

                “So—you want to put on a concert that involves fire, a boy band rubbing against each other and lions?” Zack asks emotionlessly. I shrug my shoulders, and then bite into my taco, savoring the foodgasm that’s currently in my mouth.

                “Would you want to be in my band? If there’s anyone I would like to be rubbing up against it be yo—“

                Zack quickly interrupts Brendon, “I don’t need to be hearing any rubbing against whomever! I get tonight off before your parents are forcing me to stay with you” Brendon looks like he might interrupt, “I already told your parents what you said, and they won’t budge. Something is going in California; shortage of supplies”

                “I don’t want to look like I’m the President’s fucking son. I’m 24 years old and I know how to protect myself,” Brendon growled, “I don’t need my homophobic asshole parents to tell me how to live—and when—to live my life. If they had their way I would still back in California under their control” He clenches his fists, his whole body shaking. I rest my hand on his bicep, and his body stops shaking.

                “Why did you tell, Ryan about your parents? You’re supposed to be keeping it a secret. He could be part of gang,” Zack sneers, and eyes me up again.

                “It kind of slipped out in conversation. My parents kicked me out when I came out of the closet and while discovering myself—before they kicked me out—I took Eurie to try and get rid of the urges. Brendon told me about his parents. And well. How else would he explain this house?” I say calmly, and squeeze Brendon’s bicep. If this is how he responds just talking about his parents I don’t want to see him when he actually sees them. Zack glares, and then rubs his hand across his bald head.

                “Do you have my cash for me, Brendon?” Zack decides to avoid the subject outright.

                “I still don’t understand what else you bought—yes,” Brendon reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a crumbled fifty, “use the rest for gas or whatever else Ashley needs. How is she doing?” He hands the bill to Zack, who then pockets it.

                “The last time we were at the Doctors they said that her egg count was up, and that we should we start again—which was why was pissed at you,” Zack crosses his arms and stares at Brendon.

                “Sorry—tell her that I apologize and that I’ll send her a basket of Edible Arraignments or strawberries—something”

                “Say that to my blu—“

                “Okay! Goodbye Zack! I shall talk to you tomorrow!” Brendon quickly interrupts him, and then reaches into the Taco Bell bag, “These quesadillas are probably for you—if they aren’t I don’t care—just go!” He throws the packed quesadillas at Zack.

                “Oh, so you can talk about rubbing against Ryan, but you can’t talk about my anatomy. Okay then,” Zack grumbles as he catches the quesadillas and starts walk out of the kitchen. He stops right before the doorway, “If you hurt him I will rip out your testicles and make you eat them, and then shit them out, and then eat them—got it?” I nod frantically, gulping. “Have fun! I’ll talk to you later about your music, Bren?”

                “Sure. Now go before you wife hates me even more,” Brendon adds with a smile. Zack rolls his eyes, and then leaves the room, “Hold on, have to make sure he really leaves” The front door closes with a large thud. “So, he seemed to like you”

                “Are you kidding me? He looks like he was going to eat me!” I move my hand away from Brendon’s bicep, and cover my face in my hands in embarrassment.

                “He doesn’t swing that way. Based on how many guys I had brought into my room in college—he’s not gay or even both. I do swing that way though. And I would love to eat you,” Brendon’s voice full of mischievous.

                “I’m trying to eat here,” I sit in one of the chairs, and shovel down a few more tacos, not bothering to savor the flavor. I haven’t felt this hungry since well, _ever_.

                “Are you going to eat the whole box by yourself?” Brendon pulls the box over to him, “There’s like 6 left in here. When was the last time you ate?” I shrug my shoulders, and swallow a piece of meat.

                “I ate breakfast, but I didn’t have lunch. I haven’t had meat in a while either so I’m trying to get as much as meat as I can on me” A large burp emits from my lips.

                “Dude, that was awesome. Do it again” I can’t help but smile, and force a burp, causing Brendon to giggle like a school girl.

                “I’ve always been good with burps and forcing myself to burp. It was a special talent of mine,” I shrug, and then finish off my taco. Brendon pulls his chair closer to mine, the wood scraping against the tiles, and then sits down on it. His eyes are hooded; he’s horny again which I don’t understand after what he told me about Brent. I’m happy not having sex with him.

                “Are there another special talents you would like to share with the class?” he creeps his fingertips up the inseam of my jeans, “or something that you would like to the show the class? I know a volunteer who would love to help show the special talent” I groan, my head falling back onto the chair. My mind goes completely blank.

                “I do this really amazing thing with my fingers that I would love to show the class,” I mumble, Brendon’s fingertips stopping on my upper thigh, “but is the class ready for it?” I lift up my head, searching for something in his face. I need to know that he’s okay. He hasn’t even had a full day to process everything. I don’t want to hurt him.

                “The class is so ready,” Brendon grabs my hand, and jams it down his boxers, his pre-come covering my hand, “show the class your special talent”

                “It’s easier without jeans and chairs bu—“ There’s a sudden popping from the living room, and what sounds like the sound of the windows being blown one right after the other. What the hell?

                “Ryan! Get down!” Brendon screams over the noise, pulling me onto the floor by my hand, “around the corner!” He screams again, as he pulls me around the counter side that’s not facing the windows. He sits down on the floor, and makes me sit as well. “Stay here!” I shake my head no, scared out of my mind. What’s happening? What’s going on? Please don’t leave me. I’m scared. I grab onto his arm, holding onto it for dear life. “I have to go see what’s going on!”

                “No! Don’t leave me!” I shout, and then flinch when another boom shakes the house, “I don’t like noise!” Dad always liked to make the most noise he could when he was drunk. I can’t revert back into my childhood stage but it seems like its happening. Brendon should stay here with me and things will be okay. Stay on the ground.

                “I have to see where they’re coming from!” he unwraps his arm from mine, and gets up in a standing position. I look up at him, pleading him to get down onto the floor through my thoughts. Please, come back on the floor. We’re safe down here not—I know that its gunshots now and they probably have thousands of bullets and Brendon could get sho—the sound of a gunshot ripping through flesh and cabinets is all I hear.

And then I hear me sobbing, and the gunshot stopping. There I am holding Brendon calling 911 because he has been shot in that beautiful stomach of his. But I’m stuck in that out of body experience. It’s supposed to cope with—

                “Brendon! You god damn son of a bitch! Keep your eyes open!” I scream into his face, as I shake him, “you have to keep your eyes open! I’m not losing you too, Urie!” I frantically search through my tears for a blanket or a napkin—something that could stop the bleeding until 911 picks up.

                _“Hello, 911 what is the nature of your emergency?”_

“M—my boyfriend was shot”

                _“Is the shooter still in your house? I have an ambulance and police on the way”_

“I—I don’t know. They just s—started shooting and,” I look back down at Brendon who is bleeding through his shirt, “h—he’s really bleeding”

                _“Do you have any a towel or something to press pressure on the wound until the ambulance gets there? According to where you’re calling from paramedics will be in there in 5 minutes”_ My eyes dart around the room frantically looking for anything that could help Brendon. I can’t lose him.

                “I can’t find anything on the floor—please help—I don’t want to lose him,” my voice choking and shaky.

                _“I won’t let you lose him. You’re doing good so far—press your hands down on his wound and hold them there until everyone gets there. Can you do that for me?”_

“Y-Yes,” I cradle my phone in the crook of my neck, and press my hands onto the gunshot wound. Brendon’s blood quickly colors my hands a cranberry color. This isn’t happening. This can’t be.

                _“Just keep your hands there. Is your door unlocked?”_

_“_ No—d—does have it to be unlocked?”

                _“They’ll need to break the door down, so don’t be alarmed when you hear them trying to knock it down. Where are you in the house?”_

“I—I’m in the house with him—he got shot in the stomach—he’s breathing but he’s unconscious—Brendon! Wake up!”

                _“The paramedics will bring some oxygen—Brendon is his name?”_

“Brendon Boyd Urie—he’s from California,” the police and ambulance sirens drown out the operator’s voice, “they’re here—he’s going to be okay, right?”

                _“Yes. He’s going to be okay. They’re going to take good care of him,”_ her voice barely audible as the police try to break the door down. This all feels very Deja Fu from when the cops were trying to break into that house party. But this time I’m holding Brendon. I’m not holding my vomit or my tears like I did every night before I met him. I kept telling myself that I could back to back my old routine but I can’t go back to that. I just can’t. The door suddenly falls onto the floor with a large thud with large footsteps walking towards the kitchen.

                “Hey—Brendon—they’re here. Everything is going to be okay,” I whisper softly, snot backing up in my throat. The footsteps stop in the kitchen. “We’re on the floor,” I manage to yell out to the paramedics, “behind the island” I look up at the paramedics who have suddenly appeared.

                “Sir, you’re going to have to let go of him so that we can take care of him,” the paramedic with bleach blonde hair says, “we have some oxygen and a stretcher so that we can take him to the hospital” I nod softly, not be able to use my mouth. I should be able to just let him go with him. They can take care of him, and make him better. But this is exactly what happened with Jon. They said that everything would be fine. I can’t lose Brendon, I just can’t.

                “Everything will be alright—Brendon will be fine,” another paramedic with short black hair says, “We’ll take good care of him as long as you let go right now” I need to let go. He needs help. I pull my hands away from Brendon, the white haired guy picking him up from the ground as I sit there not being able to move. I’m stuck in fear. The sound of wheels, and straps makes me flinch.

                “Gunshot to the abdomen—unconscious—blood pressure 90 over 50—did you bring the oxygen?”

                “Yeah. Police says that they’ll interview the kid at the hospital” Why would they want to interview me? I didn’t do anything. I stare down at my blood covered hands.

                “Sir, you should come in the ambulance with us. You could go into shock,” the white haired guy is talking to me again. I can’t move. I’m already in shock. “Alex, go take Urie into the ambulance while I help him out” I quickly get up from the ground.

                “I—I’m fine,” my legs shaking as one of the paramedics throws a blanket over me, “I’ll come with right n—now” Before I know what’s happening, I’m rushed outside into the ambulance and sitting in the back with Brendon as I watch the black haired guy start an IV line in his right hand. “Is he going to be okay?” He doesn’t respond but only adjusts the oxygen bag on Brendon.

                “Do you have anyone to wait with you when we get to the hospital?” The black haired guy asks.

                “I can call someone—is Brendon going to be okay?” I ask again, my knee jumping and down.

                “Only the Emergency Room attendees can tell you that—don’t know if it was a clean exit wound or if it’s still inside of his stomach. The only thing I can tell you that he is breathing and has a steady heartbeat,” his eyes glance from me to Brendon, “you can hold his hand before we get to the hospital” He smirks at me, and changes out an IV bag.

                “I won’t be allowed in the back, will I?” I take Brendon’s hand, and squeeze it tightly.

                “Only family are allowed in the back—sorry”

                “All of his family is in California” Well, that’s not completely true. Zack is here.

                “We’ll contact his family as well if he would like us too,” he says as the ambulance bears right, “do you know if he has any allergies?” I shake my head no, and look down at the silver floor. I don’t know a lot about actual things he likes or his allergies. I only know the basic sketch of who Brendon is. “What’s his full name?”

                “Brendon Boyd Urie—24 years old— April 21st, 1989—9am—8 pounds and 7 ounces—biggest baby in his hospital,” I quickly recite from memory.

                “Do you know anything else that might be of use?”

                “Wait—he played sports a lot so he was injured quite a few times. I don’t know where but—“

                “Does he have any metal staples or anything that may harm an MRI?”

                “I don’t know” I shrug my shoulders and then stare down at Brendon, “I’m Ryan Ross and he’s Brendon Urie. That’s all I know.” The ambulance squeals to a step in front of the hospital, and the doors are flung open. Before I know it he’s pulled out of the ambulance and they’re wheeling him into the hospital leaving me alone just like Jon did those 2 years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!


End file.
